


and still we orbit

by skyestiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Giant Spiders, Huddling For Warmth, I'm gonna give the gays everything they want, M/M, Multi, Post-Season/Series 06, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, and more tags to be added later, because i'm a disaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestiel/pseuds/skyestiel
Summary: “The whole thing really makes a guy think. About, well,everything. Lance almost wishes he could go back in time and tell little Lance what he’d experience in the future. Tell him stories of their missions and battles, stories of the stars.”or:After years in space, the team is finally headed home, but not without plenty of obstacles along the way. Weapon tycoons and giant tarantulas, heated battles and cooking lessons, rekindled relationships and broken trust. Yet through it all, the paladins never stray far from each other's orbits.





	and still we orbit

**Author's Note:**

> here it is!! the fic i’ve been screaming about online for the last couple months! as i’ve said multiple times on my twitter, this fic follows the events of s6 and is canon divergent beyond that point. there will be many of my favorite tropes (some specific to klance), many twists, and many self-indulgent scenes or plot points. it’s juuuust about what i wanted to see towards the end of the show, so hopefully everyone will enjoy the ride!
> 
> thanks to all the people who beta’d the first chapter for me (shout out to [brigid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstinspace/pseuds/angstinspace) and bailey) and thanks to everyone who decides to read this!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tohiri is a convenient pit stop, and Lance has to educate Keith on old survival shows.

 

 

When Lance was younger, he believed space was endless. 

 

An infinite stretch of inky black nothingness. Interspersed with galaxies and stars, nebulae and black holes, dark matter. But becoming a defender of the universe has certainly reshaped his perspective. The universe has a finite size in his mind now with invisible boundaries drawn somewhere in the recesses of space. 

 

The whole thing really makes a guy think. About, well,  _ everything. _ Lance almost wishes he could go back in time and tell little Lance what he’d experience in the future. Tell him stories of their missions and battles, stories of the stars. And, of course, stories of all the aliens Lance will meet along the way.

 

_ Aliens…  _ who would’ve ever thought Lance would meet aliens in the flesh?

 

Lance slouches comfortably into the pilot’s chair, safe within the Red Lion. The team has loaded up into their respective lions for “the long journey,” as Coran enthusiastically dubbed it. After Lance and Keith carefully led Shiro— alive and a clone only in body now— into the Black Lion, they decided to leave the planet they’d briefly settled on. The sooner they could get moving, the better.

 

And now they're heading home. 

 

Kaltenecker stands dutifully behind Lance. Her hooves clomp against the floor as she shifts around, probably hungry and frustrated with her confinement. She’s also breathing down his neck, so that's… not exactly pleasant. And her usual smell is more pungent when trapped inside a cockpit. But Lance refused to leave her behind.

 

“We really are soulmates, huh?” Lance’s fingers flutter around the controls, tapping an aimless rhythm. “A human and a space cow. Like, of all the ridiculous things I’ve seen, I never expected to see a  _ cow  _ again.”

 

Kaltenecker bellows her response. A reaffirmation, Lance decides. 

 

The display screen on his dash suddenly goes from blank to encompassed by four looming faces. Allura, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith flicker to life in their respective place on the grid. The expressions behind their visors are grim. Anxious. Lance can only imagine what sort of face he’s making. He’s always prided himself on concealing his feelings but, man, space has tested his limits.

 

“I think I’ve found a planet to set up camp!” Coran announces over Allura’s shoulder. She flashes him a warning look when he unintentionally pushes her out of the frame. “The planet of Tohiri. By my calculations, we’ll be approaching it soon, actually. In a matter of ticks.”

 

“What’s it like?” Keith asks. His brow furrows, and Lance finds his attention inexplicably drawn to the motion. “Should we expect company?”

 

“Not likely. As long as we stick to the forests, we won’t encounter many of the inhabitants. From what I recall, most of them stick to the cities. I remember when I was only a few decapheebs old and King Alfor wanted to attend one of their annual festivals and—” 

 

“A bunch of city slickers, got it,” Lance summarizes. “So, we’ll be setting up camp in the woods. Aw. Like a real family camping trip!”

 

“Lance, you almost fell off a cliff the last time we went camping.” Hunk lifts an amused brow. “You sure you’re up for it?”

 

Lance bristles. “Okay, first off, that was  _ one time _ . Geez. Secondly, I helped us get out of the woods when we got lost. And, thirdly, this is an alien forest, which means it doesn’t count.”

 

“Because of course the alien forest doesn’t have its own alien cliffs,” Pidge teases. 

 

The rest of the team shares a laugh, and some of the nervous energy thrumming under Lance’s skin subsides.  _ We’ll be alright.  _ His gaze, yet again, is pulled to Keith. The new scar curled across his cheek, extending down his neck. New creases in his face that weren’t there before he saved Shiro.

 

What’s the full story there? Lance has been pondering over it ever since Keith came back to them. There’s more to it— Lance can tell. And, to an extent, Keith feels like a different person to Lance. This isn’t the same hotheaded pilot he knew from the Galaxy Garrison or the reluctant leader who did his best to guide the team when Shiro disappeared.

 

_ He’s still Keith,  _ Lance reminds himself. But the words seem to fall flat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After scouring the surface from a low orbit, Allura pinpoints a suitable hiding spot.

 

Trees circle a cleared area, just large enough for the lions to squeeze into. The ground beneath their feet is rocky with sparse tufts of grass reaching towards the sky, blades of varying shades of green. 

 

Everyone helps in pulling supplies from the lions and setting up camp for the evening. Each lion is stocked with a plethora of supplies: namely tents, blankets, and pillows. The tents are contained within small, metal boxes. Once activated, they're shaped much like pewter gray igloos. Keith figures they were stocked for situations like this, in case any of the paladins found themselves stranded. 

 

Before landing, Coran made sure to double-check and take plenty of atmospheric readings. It seemed like a relatively hospitable environment, so the team wouldn’t have to wear their paladin suits. Of course, without the Castleship, they no longer have  extra suits to go around for Krolia and the other extra members of the group. They’ll have to be more careful in the future when picking pit stops. 

 

As Keith sets his tent down and activates it, he skims his gaze over their camp. The ragtag remnants of Team Voltron and their impromptu additions. 

 

Pidge and Hunk arrange their tents right next to each other on the side of the clearing opposite Keith. They’re transfixed by the tiny activation mechanisms, turning the contraptions over in their hands and examining the buttons. Keith can’t make out the words from this distance, but it isn’t difficult to guess. Their mouths move rapidly, excited chatter tumbling from their lips. Something about “microprocessors” and “switches.”

 

Allura, Coran, and Romelle end up clustered together to the left of Pidge and Hunk. The tents don’t appear to faze them in the slightest. The camping supplies  _ are  _ Altean technology, after all. Keith would be more confused if they reacted like Pidge and Hunk had. Allura and Romelle speak in hushed whispers, occasionally snickering at Coran, who appears to be complaining about his lack of pajamas. 

 

Shiro claims the space to Keith’s right. Actually, Keith claims it  _ for  _ him. Shiro’s in no condition to set up his own tent, automatic or not. Keith helps to lay out his blanket and fumble through fluffing his pillow. It jiggles as he kneads it with his fingers, like it’s filled with jello. Shiro silently watches with a fond smile— a smile Keith has missed more than he ever realized. 

 

Krolia, predictably, sets up her tent on Keith’s other side. Kosmo trots in circles around her throughout the entire process. Tail wagging, tongue lolling from his mouth. Krolia finishes pitching her tent and arranging her bed long before anyone else on the team. Even Keith. She now leans against the tent’s central pole, scanning the sky overhead. For what, Keith isn’t sure. 

 

And then there’s Lance. 

 

Lance, who works under the watchful gaze of a space cow. Lance, who quietly sets up his tent between Krolia and Hunk. Lance, who is rarely  _ quiet  _ and would never pass on an opportunity to make fun of Keith. In the past, he would’ve jokingly asked if Keith could handle setting up his tent on his own. Or maybe he would’ve waltzed over, activated Keith’s tent, and then absconded with his blanket and pillow. Anything—  _ anything _ to get a reaction _.  _ He wouldn’t just go about his business, especially when he and Keith hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since reuniting. 

 

_ I should say something _ , Keith thinks desperately. He’s never been the kind of person who succeeded in smoothing things over in a tense situation. It involves words and consideration and treating the conversation with a sense of fragility, like a ticking time bomb. Like if Keith were to approach Lance and cut the wrong wire, he’d detonate a verbal explosion. And, well, Keith isn't overly fond of that possibility.

 

Before he has the chance to approach Lance, Krolia steps into the center of the clearing. “I think we should discuss what happens next,” she addresses the group. “We need to find food before nightfall.”

 

“Krolia is right,” Allura seconds. She joins Krolia and meets Keith’s gaze. Unlike the others, she kept her paladin armor on. Not that anyone could blame her when a bulky dress was her other option. “If we are to stay here until deciding on our next destination, we must find food.”

 

“And a place to shower.” Pidge pinches her nose and waves her hand in front of her face. “Before this campsite starts to stink of sweat and” —she looks to Kaltenecker and Kosmo— “well.”

 

“Hey! Kaltenecker is a classy and cleanly lady,” Lance gasps, patting the knobby curve of her spine. “I worry more about the  _ people _ here stinking up the joint.”

 

“We’ll find a stream or body of water.” Keith cuts through the conversation, evading Lance’s stare, boring into the side of his head. “I’ll go catch dinner and hopefully find a place for us to bathe.”

 

“You sure? We don’t know what kind of weird creatures are out there.” Hunk’s voice squeaks, eyes darting around. He grabs Pidge and tugs her against his side. “What if it’s dangerous?”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Keith reassures him. He puts on his most convincing smile. “I promise. I’m sure I’ve dealt with worse.”

 

“Hunk has a point.” _ Shiro _ . Of course it’s Shiro. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

 

“I never had trouble finding food in the desert,” Keith insists. He turns to Shiro, hardening his gaze. “It wouldn’t be my first time hunting. You know that.”

 

“I do, but the desert wasn’t on an alien planet where none of us knew the terrain. We also can’t be sure about whether this planet is occupied by the Galra.” Wincing, Shiro straightens until he’s standing at his full height. “I’m sure everyone here would feel better if someone went with you.”

 

“You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be me, but I’ll go if I have to.”

 

“You’re staying here.”

 

“Keith—”

 

“I’ll go,” someone blurts. 

 

At first, Keith can’t tell who volunteers, but when it sinks in, his heart flip-flops in his chest.

 

“My tent is already set up,” Lance continues, spurred on by Keith’s silence. “I won’t be doing anything else if I stay behind except maybe playing with Kosmo.” The space wolf yips excitedly at the prospect. The traitor. “So, why not? It wouldn’t be the first time the two of us have had to work together.”

 

The words sit like lead in the pit of Keith’s stomach. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. A hazy image shoves to the forefront of his mind. Lance, clutching his hand and flashing Keith a watery smile.  _ We are a good team _ . Five simple words that have haunted Keith ever since. 

 

But that was before Keith left— before the two of them changed. Before Keith and Lance somehow became Keith  _ and  _ Lance. Two distinctly separate beings, a world away from the nostalgic Blue and Red or even leader and his right-hand man. 

 

Before things were… different.

 

“It’s cool if you’d rather take someone else.” Lance speaks with feigned indifference, putting on his usual act. Keith sees right through it. He always does. 

 

“No,” Keith answers far too quickly. Embarrassed, he clears his throat. “No, you’re right. The two of us can go.”

 

Keith tries not to read too much into Lance’s responding grin.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lance has always liked the outdoors.

 

Not that he’s ever been a fanatic or anything on that level. But Mother Nature really is a beautiful, talented lady. 

 

As a kid, Lance loved dragging his siblings into the woods for playtime. They’d squish into a cardboard spaceship and weave between the trees, yelling fake orders at each other and cackling like hyenas. Back in elementary school, Lance almost had Veronica talked into building a treehouse. She eventually decided it wasn’t worth the money it would cost, and it broke Lance’s heart. But he continued to beg his mother to sketch on the hull of his noble space vessel whenever a new box came in the mail. 

 

And then there was the ocean.

 

It was a lot like space, actually. A vast and endless sea Lance used to believe went on forever. Until later in life, when school shattered his dreams of an infinite stretch of water. Bounded by shores and cliff-sides, weathered by the constant lapping of the waves as they rushed in.

 

But there's no ocean in sight here.

 

Tall deciduous trees surround them on every side. Their trunks are made of thick, brown bark. Spindly branches tangle above their heads, covered in round green leaves and massive flower buds. Although they have yet to find dinner, Lance can easily make out the unmistakable sounds of life that surround them. Shrill tweets and bellows, the snap of twigs underfoot and distant swish of beating wings. The musky odor of dirt lingers in the air.

 

Lance sticks close to Keith as they traipse over branches and rocks. He’s lost track of time since they set off on their little mission, every second of uncomfortable silence stretching into hours. They have yet to find any potential food out here. No mammalian-like creatures, scampering around. No snakes or other reptiles, as much as Lance would rather not eat one.

 

The longer they walk and the longer they go without saying a word to each other, the more ansty Lance gets. He wants to find something like a rabbit, a deer if they’re lucky. If they scored an animal the size of a bear, the whole camp would praise and make all over them like champions when they returned. Maybe they’d even get dibs on the part of the animal they wanted to eat.

 

_ It would be proof the two of us still work well together, too _ , Lance muses. He’s been waiting for some kind of evidence. Because, as of lately, it feels like the easy camaraderie of their co-leadership is gone. Poof, just like that. 

 

Uncertainty makes his skin crawl, itch, and, quiznak, he can’t take the silence anymore— 

 

“It feels like there’s nothing out here,” he points out. “Kind of hard to believe we haven’t come across a single critter.”

 

“Maybe they’re nocturnal.”

 

“They can’t  _ all  _ be nocturnal.” Lance shoulders past a floppy fern frond. “You can hear some of them if you listen closely.”

 

Keith mumbles his agreement. And then it’s over. The silence of earlier returns, shrouding the two in a thick blanket of awkwardness. Lance stifles a groan and glances over at Keith. The muscles in his jaw twitch, his eyes peering forward. Laser focused— typical Keith. 

 

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this whole ‘hunting’ thing,” Lance snaps. His patience is slipping, and the comment comes out with a bite.

 

Keith falters and nearly topples over a protruding root. Releasing a flustered huff, he jerks his head in Lance’s direction. “Wh— I’m trying, you know.”

 

“Cleary not hard enough.”

 

“This is unfamiliar territory, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t even know what I’m hunting, Lance.” 

 

“Alright, whatever.” Harsh— Lance is being too harsh. He knows that. “I figured you hunted while you were away with Krolia, too, so…”

 

The crunching of underbrush and twigs suddenly stops. Perplexed and somewhat nervous, Lance sinks his feet into the soil. His gaze seeks out Keith, only to find him poised at his side. If looks could kill, Lance would be dead on the spot. 

 

“What’s your problem?” Keith brows draw together, irritated lines creasing his forehead. 

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Lance drawls. “I don’t have a problem.”

 

“I’m not stupid.” Keith takes a menacing step forward, and Lance steps back. “There’s obviously something wrong. I... “ Keith deflates. “I’ve pissed you off.”

 

Lance draws his lower lip between his teeth. This is  _ not  _ how he envisioned their little excursion going. He figured by the end, he and Keith would march through the woods singing frickin’ “Kum Ba Yah” with dinner swinging from their hands. This is the very conversation he was hoping to avoid.

 

The quiet settles over them yet again. Cloying. As Lance’s mother used to say, “Silence can be deafening.” He hadn’t fully understood the meaning until he stood beside his grandfather’s casket at the age of nine. The funeral attendees, strangers and family alike, stayed quiet throughout the entire ceremony. Thin and far smaller than anyone else there, Lance felt the weight of their silence like a piano stacked on his tiny body. He had wondered, in the car ride home, if that’s how it’d been at his father’s funeral.

 

_ Silence can be deafening.  _ Here, in the woods with Keith, he gains an even greater appreciation for his mamá’s wisdom. 

 

The confession feels like it’s punched out of him. Totally against his will and better judgment. “You left us.”

 

Well. There it is. The truth is out in the open.

 

Keith’s entire face contorts, flickering through several emotions. Confusion, realization, and, finally, disappointment. The expression is like a dagger in Lance’s chest. As if Keith launched forward and buried his blade in Lance up to the hilt. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith replies softly. “I— god, Lance, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.” Lance rattles off the lie all too easily. Keith’s absence certainly hadn’t felt “okay.” Not when they’d  _ just  _ started to become closer friends. “It’s fine.”

 

“No, it’s not.”

 

Lance’s breath catches. “I—”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt any of you,” Keith goes on. “At first, I thought I made the right choice. And I guess it did lead me to Krolia. But I still don’t feel right about what I did. I, uh... “ He pauses, lips pressed in a thin line, before continuing. “I had my reasons.”

 

“Reasons?” Lance squints at Keith. “What does that mean?”

 

A light flush creeps up Keith’s face. His gaze settles on the forest floor for a tense moment then returns to Lance. There’s a question in his eyes. His lips twitch, ready to form words. 

 

But the sky chooses that moment to split open. And then comes the rain. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith is eternally grateful for the sudden downpour.

 

He’s not thrilled about his clothes getting soaked or about having to seek out shelter. But he’ll take whatever interruption he can get. 

 

It's like a meteorological switch has been flipped. Rain falls in heavy sheets, filling the air with the hypnotic pitter patter of droplets. Lance’s reaction to the squall is immediate. His jaw goes slack, and he tilts his face to the sky. Water cascades over his forehead, trickling down his cheeks and neck. Keith tracks each droplet’s path as it skirts across Lance’s skin. 

 

Distantly, he remembers Lance mentioning the rain back on Earth. How he liked to go outside during storms and skip through puddles. The delight that stretches Lance’s lips into a grin is far from faked. It’s probably one of few genuine smiles Keith has seen Lance wear since joining Voltron.

 

The thought strikes a nerve, and Keith unthinkingly reaches for Lance’s arm. He grabs his wrist and takes off. 

 

“Wha— Keith!” Lance cries but it tapers into an excited burst of laughter. “This is a  _ heck  _ of a storm.”

 

Keith can barely make out Lance’s words over the roar of the rain. He pushes forward, browsing for any sign of a cave. It thankfully doesn’t take long for them to come upon a space carved into the side of a towering rock. Keith breathes a quiet sigh of relief.  _ This will do. _

 

They jog through the cave’s gaping entrance and double over once they're completely inside. Keith can only imagine how they must look. A couple of panting boys, dripping all over the cave floor. Glancing over, Keith is met with the sight of a tousled Lance. Strands of brown hair are slicked to his forehead, his cheeks faintly red from exertion. And his eyes— they’re  _ alive _ , glittering in the low light of the cave. Keith quickly turns away.

 

“I’ll start a fire,” Keith mumbles. Without another word, he ducks out of the cave and back into the storm. 

 

There are plenty of trees around, and Keith has little trouble gathering kindling. He ducks into the driest corners, safe beneath the widest canopies. He snaps off and gathers as many twigs and branches as he can carry. When he re-enters the cave, Lance is propped against a large rock with his back to Keith. Footsteps echo against the walls, loudly announcing his return. For a horrified moment, Keith wonders whose home they’ve intruded upon. And whether said creature will be coming back anytime soon. 

 

“Oh, hey.” Lance eyes the bundle in Keith’s arms. “You… uh. You were serious about that fire.”

 

Keith nods and drops the bundle. Just to make sure, he pats the front of the pack around his waist.  _ Still there. _

 

“We’ll need a fire if we want to stay warm,” Keith explains. “I set up a few when Krolia and I were—” Right.  _ That.  _ The topic he’s desperately evading. “We need some wood.”

 

Before Lance has the chance to interject, Keith is marching back into the woods. Finding dry logs in the forest won’t be much fun without an axe, but he’ll make do. He tugs the Blade from his holster and approaches the largest tree he can find. Testing the heft of the knife in his hand, he trails his fingers across the trunk’s rough surface. And… well, he does the only thing he can do: improvises.

 

Unfortunately, the arduous task of gathering wood gives him plenty of time to reflect. On the team. On Voltron as a whole and what their next step is when it comes to protecting the universe. On the Galra and Lotor’s death. On Krolia, Shiro, and his time away. And, of course, on Lance.

 

Lance’s expression when Keith appeared on the Castleship’s feed after months of minimal transmissions. _Does he look bigger to anyone else?_ Lance had prompted. And, of course, he’d been right. Even Keith could tell he’d grown since entering the quantum abyss. But what did it all mean? Why did Lance care?

 

Then there was Lance’s expression when the team hugged Keith before he left. The lines beneath his eyes and strained curve of his smile— if it could even be considered a smile. The way his voice cracked as he teased Keith.  _ Yeah, who am I gonna make fun of?  _ When the reality was Lance had plenty of people to tease in Keith's absence.

 

And, god, the expression he wore when he came to Keith’s room, hunched shoulders and twiddling fingers, convinced he didn’t belong on the team even though it was the most  _ absurd  _ thing Keith had ever heard in his life and— 

 

_ Okay, okay. Deep breaths _ . Keith pauses and rests a palm on the tree bark above the cut he made. Eventually, he works enough dry wood out with his blade to last the night and better part of the morning. Just to be safe.

 

This time when he walks back into the cave, Lance is facing him. He must’ve moved to the opposite side of the kindling pile at some point while Keith was out. His arms are folded tightly across his chest, knees quivering where they rest beneath his chin.  _ He’s cold _ . 

 

Keith quickly gets to work on arranging the wood and kindling. Rather than chatting away like Keith anticipated, Lance quietly studies Keith as he pulls the lighter from his pack. It’s a heavy stare, weighted down by tense, unspoken things.

 

After some coaxing, Keith manages to spark a flame with his pocket lighter. Flickers of orange and yellow bathe the cave walls in soft splashes of light. Honestly, Keith hadn't expected it to work. His makeshift campfire… leaves a lot to be desired.

 

Relieved, he climbs to his feet. He kicks off his boots, wincing as the material clings to his wet calves. Logically, he knows he should take his shirt off, too. But, hypothetically, if he were to think about this  _ illogically,  _ then there's the issue of Lance no more than a few feet away. Staring. 

 

_ Don't be an idiot _ . Keith grabs the hem of his shirt. It's nothing. It's fine. He'll pull it off, like ripping off a bandaid. And then he'll be shirtless but also a step closer to drying off. So…

 

Keith tightens his grip and tugs at his shirt. Of fucking  _ course _ it's not simple, what with the fabric sticking to his skin. He wriggles and pulls and, finally, he manages to ease it over his head. All he has to do now is lay it out to dry. 

 

“ _ Keith _ ,” Lance gasps, shrill and totally scandalized. “What the heck?”

 

Keith can and will stay cool about this. It's a survival technique, that's all. He refuses to get sick out in the middle of this forest on a simple hunting mission just because he couldn't be shirtless in front of  _ Lance _ . Hesitantly, he turns. 

 

Keith half-expected Lance to be shielding his eyes. Or maybe facing the other direction, making the greatest possible effort to glimpse away. Out of respect or disgust, Keith doesn't know. Hopefully the former.

 

But Lance takes Keith's bare torso in with wide, bulging eyes. He’s red up to the tips of his ears with his mouth slightly agape. There’s an awful second of silence as Lance gives Keith a onceover and then fixes his gaze firmly on a spot over Keith’s shoulder instead. 

 

“Wet clothes will keep us from staying warm,” Keith explains with a shrug. Because of course he's pulling off the casual act quite nicely. “So, the shirt had to go.”

 

“Just— okay, not the pants, though.” Lance glares at Keith’s legs. “You should be fine in those.” His nostrils flare, and he jerks his head in a violent motion that has Keith worrying his neck will ache later. “Quiznak, it’s like an episode of that old tv show.  _ Naked and Afraid. _ ”

 

“What?” Keith cautiously sinks into a sitting position. “ _ Naked and Afraid _ ? That sounds…”

 

Lance peeks at Keith, but his head doesn't budge. “Oh, it's an actual thing. Like when my mom was little, I think. Way back in the day. They’d send two sad saps into the rainforest or some place out in the wild without any clothes or supplies for three weeks. And see how long they could last.”

 

“Why would anyone willingly sign up for that?” 

 

“Money, dude. Bragging rights.” Lance gradually turns back to the fire. “The usual.”

 

Keith snorts, shaking his head. “Well, people are fucking weird. And crazy.”

 

“You may be half-Galra, but you’re also half-human,” Lance quips with a lazy smirk. “It shows, too. You  _ are  _ pretty crazy…”

 

Keith can’t help but mirror Lance’s smirk. This is familiar territory— this is the sort of banter Keith is used to. An effortless exchange of snarky remarks that would sound rude to anyone else, but to them is natural. Friendly. And, well, maybe Lance is right. Maybe Keith  _ is  _ crazy. He must be to miss these silly arguments with Lance.

 

“You’re a menace,” Keith replies with an amused huff. 

 

“Why, thank you. I accept that title with honor.”

 

“There are plenty of other titles I could give you, but I don’t think you’d like them.”

 

“Rude!” Lance scrunches up his face, but there’s no mistaking the smile now. His bare toes wiggle and, for the first time, Keith realizes Lance took his shoes off. “I could say the same for you, you know. It's starting to feel like older Keith is also a jerk.”

 

“No, just honest. Besides, I can already guess that most of your titles for me include the word ‘mullet,’” Keith answers. A laugh slips out, unbidden. “You need new material.”

 

Lance puffs out his chest. The thin gray and blue material of his shirt sticks to his torso and arms, outlining muscles Keith would rather not dwell on. Keith is reminded again of Lance’s quaking figure tucked in a loose ball. 

 

The sight must short-circuit his brain or at least his brain-to-mouth filter. 

 

“Take your shirt off,” Keith commands. Blunt, straight to the point. And so embarrassingly forthright that Keith wishes he could vanish into thin air. 

 

“Oh, uh.” Lance isn’t smiling anymore. All color drains from his face and, instinctively, he tugs down on the hem of his shirt. “I’d really rather  _ not _ do that.”

 

“You’re going to freeze in that,” Keith urges. He waves helplessly at Lance’s quivering fingers. “The fire will only help so much.”

 

“I’ll be  _ fine,  _ okay?” Lance thins his lips. Keith can already tell he’s lost this argument. 

 

Heaving a sigh, Keith switches his attention to the fire. “Suit yourself.”

 

The faint snaps and crackles of the fire eating away at the kindling are the only sounds to be heard. Coupled with the rush of the rain outside. 

 

“Hey, Keith?” Lance prompts, voice rising in pitch.

 

Keith lifts his eyes to Lance. The flame illuminates his features, highlighting the slope of his nose. For the first time since his return, Keith is taken aback by the transformations in Lance’s appearance. Subtle things, too, like the way he’s grown an inch or two and the way his body has filled out. Keith croaks, “Yeah?”

 

“I’ve just been thinking and… things are different between us, aren’t they?” Lance winces as if in real, physical pain. “Ever since you went to work for the Blade of Marmora. And then got stuck in the— the frickin’  _ quantum abyss  _ for two years. Everything feels off-kilter and weird.”

 

Keith swallows past the lump in his throat. So, he wasn’t the only one who noticed.    
“I— I know.”

 

“It’s also, like, I’m constantly at war with myself. One second, I’m excited to go home and see my family again. Then, the next, I remember we're...” He motions between them. “Like this, and it really mellows my mood. Drives me  _ nuts _ , to be honest.”

 

“Like this?”

 

“You know, different. We were never best friends or whatever, but we were  _ something.  _ More than just rivals like at the Garrison.” Lance’s fingers curl against his kneecaps. “And I don't want to— to lose that. For things to change more than they already have.”

 

Keith's heart sinks. He and Lance were never truly “rivals” in Keith's mind to begin with. Keith knew he and Lance no longer had the antagonistic relationship of their early Garrison days or even early Voltron days. They'd been on the cusp of friendship, something Keith had secretly been hoping for since he was little and first introduced to his starry-eyed, overambitious classmate. 

 

“I won't let it,” Keith rasps. “I won't let things change.”

 

Lance releases a derisive snort. His lips curl into the dispirited ghost of a smile. “It's not that easy, buddy.” 

 

“Maybe it can be.”

 

“Keith…” Lance speaks his name like an apology. Murmured, barely audible.

 

And something inside Keith snaps. 

 

“Do you know one of the reasons I left?” Keith draws in a breath. “Why I thought I needed to go?”

 

Lance schools his expression into something purposefully neutral. “What?”

 

“It's, uh.” Keith chuckles helplessly. “It was probably a ridiculous reason, but I didn't think so at the time.”

 

_ That _ appears to pique Lance's curiosity. “You brought your 'reasons’ up in the woods earlier, but you never… elaborated.”

 

Lance deserves to know— Keith  _ needs _ him to know. 

 

“When you came to my room that day, worried about staying on as the Red Lion's pilot, it got me thinking.” Keith hesitates. “I'd never thought about it until you said something. That one of us would have to sit out.”

A twig gives a particularly loud snap under the weight of the flame. 

 

“And… you were right, Allura deserves to pilot a lion. She's come a long way,” Keith murmurs, softened by the low lighting. “All of us have. Including you.”

 

Across the flames, Lance's eyes flash with uncertainty. “But—

 

“ _ But  _ you didn't understand that. So, I decided I had to prove it to you. Or at least make sure you continued to pilot Red. The easiest way to do that, I thought, was…” Keith's brows snap together. “Was to leave.”

 

The crackling feels deafening, filling in the gaps in Keith's admission. His pulse skyrockets, more than happy to contribute to the thunderous din in his ears. Fighting to drown out the rain and sounds of the forest. But nothing is quite as loud as Lance's silence. 

 

His mouth hangs open, eyes big and round. Speechless. He picks apart Keith with his gaze, piece by painstaking piece. Surveying Keith much like he did when Keith first stepped onto the Castleship again after his time away.

 

Keith officially wants to seal his mouth shut for the rest of their stay in this dank, godforsaken cave. 

 

When Lance regains his voice, Keith hardly hears him. “I… I was one of your reasons?”

 

Overwhelmed, Keith averts his gaze to the fire.

 

Lance adds softly, “You didn't have to leave, though.”

 

“Maybe not,” Keith mumbles with a shrug. “But what's done is done.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ What's done is done _ . 

 

Lance lets the words rattle around in his skull. He keeps turning them over in hopes of coming up with a fitting response. Earlier, when Keith first said it, Lance hadn't known what to say. 

 

_ What's done is done _ .

 

Lance peers into the weakly flickering flame. Honestly, what the heck did Keith mean? Part of the reason he left was  _ Lance?  _

 

No, no, no. That can't be right. Maybe Keith said it to make Lance feel better. Or maybe being trapped in the cave was getting to Keith? Lance definitely feels like it’s starting to get to  _ him _ .

 

For days, months, Lance has been operating under the assumption Keith left on a journey of self-discovery. He ran off because he needed to come to terms with his Galra heritage. And Lance had understood that. Heck, if he’d never known his family, he would’ve torn the universe apart in search of them. Imagining Keith tucked in that shack in the middle of the desert, without either of his parents around to take care of him, makes  Lance’s heart ache.

 

Still...

 

_ What’s done is done _ .

 

Well, Keith certainly isn't wrong. There’s no going back now. 

 

Outside, the rain continues to fall. Lance can barely see a few feet beyond the cave’s entrance. At this point, their chances of finding food are shot. Any animals are probably huddled in caves like this one or their cozy nests, warm and dry. 

 

Speaking of warm and dry, Lance is neither of those things. 

 

As nightfall rapidly approaches, the temperature has dropped significantly. Lance curls his arms tighter and tighter around his knees. The denim fabric has darkened to an almost black color, dripping steady droplets of water. His shirt clings uncomfortably to every inch of his skin. Every few minutes, he’s struck by a staggering full-body shudder. 

 

“I can’t believe it hasn’t let up yet,” Keith comments, his voice gone quiet. “We can't go out there. It’s probably safest to just spend the night here.”

 

_ Oh good.  _ Lance curls his toes against the cool, unforgiving cave floor. When he volunteered for this mission, he certainly didn’t sign up for a night alone in a freezing cave with his rival turned friend turned maybe rival again. 

 

Across the fire, Keith crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes narrow as he scrutinizes Lance. Oh, how Lance has missed that posture, that expression. It’s trademark Keith, really. Except there’s something new twisting his features. Like he can’t quite figure Lance out.

 

_ Join the club, buddy.  _

 

“What’s up?” Lance asks, and Keith visibly flinches. “You look constipated or something.”

 

Keith’s eyes go round. “Con— no! No, I’m not constipated.”

 

“Well, it sure looks that way. I don’t think you’ll find any laxatives out here. Although my knowledge of natural ones is kinda lacking.”

 

“I’m not constipated!” Keith all but shouts. “You know what, fine. Maybe I should just let you freeze to death.”

 

Lance blinks, slowly trying to comprehend Keith’s meaning. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. What were you gonna say?”

 

“That you’re a pain in the ass.”

 

“ _ Keith _ .”

 

Keith sighs, his eyes fluttering shut. He motions at Lance’s body huddled against a rock. “Will you… please take off your shirt?”

 

_ This again. _ Lance really doesn’t want to explain himself to Keith. To confess he’s terribly embarrassed by the thought of Keith seeing him shirtless. And that, more embarrassingly, he has no clue  _ why  _ he's freaking out about the whole mess. Normally, he’s not shy about his body, thanks to years of swimming and surfing.  

 

It's not like Keith hasn't seen him without a shirt before. Back when they were on the Castleship and bickering over who deserved to swim in the Altean pool. It should be casual and normal and,  _ what the cheese, _ why is Lance suddenly so nervous about this? 

 

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask,” Lance quips weakly. 

 

Keith remains deadpan. “I’m not letting you get sick, Lance.”

 

“I won’t!”

 

“Listen,” Keith groans. “I understand that this isn’t an ideal situation and neither of us expected to be stuck out here. But if we stay in these clothes overnight, we’re going to wake up feeling awful.”

 

“Oh, wait, we’re going to sleep here? On this—” Lance pats the ground— “lovely rock mattress?”

 

Keith lifts a brow. “Yes?”

 

“I see, I see. Well, maybe if you’re lucky we’ll have to huddle up for warmth,” Lance teases, throwing in a wink.

 

Keith flushes. It’s actually impressive watching his pale skin turn pink within seconds. The color complements the lavender of his scar, accentuating his bone structure.

 

Warmth creeps up Lance’s face at the thought.  _ Congratulations, you played yourself.  _

 

“Lance, we, uh,” Keith stumbles through his response. “We will.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“We  _ will. _ ”

 

“Survive? Yeah, Gloria Gaynor, of course we’ll survive.”

 

“Gloria who?”

 

Lance pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s— it’s a song, dude. How have you never heard ‘I Will Survive’ before?”

 

“Because my dad… okay, never mind. I’m getting off topic.” Keith twists the pack around his waist until he can unbuckle it, crouching to set it by the nearest rock. “We, as in the two of us,  _ will _ have to huddle together for warmth.”

 

Wait.

 

_ Oh. _

 

“We— hold up, the two of us are— oh my god,  _ Keith _ !” Lance ducks his head, pointedly staring at the logs in the fire. “Seriously? What’d I say about the pants?”

 

Heat fills Lance’s veins at the sound of rustling clothes and muttered curses. “Alright, alright,” Keith concedes. “I’ll keep the pants on.”

 

_ Thank all that is wonderful and just in this stupid, stupid universe.  _ Reluctantly, Lance raises his head. Keith glowers at him through the flames and, upon making eye contact, sighs and drops to the ground.

 

Quietly, he maneuvers his body until he’s lying on his side facing away from the fire. Lance watches Keith’s muscles bunch and flex as he moves. Flashes of pale yellow and sunset orange color the expanse of his back. A dizzying image for reasons Lance can’t place.

 

Keith throws one of his arms up and flicks his wrist. “Come on. Don’t make this weird.”

 

“Easier said than done,” Lance grumbles under his breath. He peers down at his chest, glaring at the wet shirt that got him into trouble in the first place. “Here we go.”

 

Lance rises to his feet. If Keith can do it, if he can endure a night of cuddling, then so can Lance. Sitting close to the fire seems to have luckily dried out his shirt a bit. The light fabric sticks to his skin, slick with a gross combination of rain and sweat. Lance’s fingers scrabble to pull it over his head. His abdominal muscles twitch at the gentle scrape of his fingernails.

 

After a considerable amount of twisting and pulling, he manages to peel his shirt off. He carefully arranges it on the rock next to Keith’s. Seeing them there, next to each other, stirs up butterflies in Lance's stomach. Two of the only pieces of clothing they kept from Earth. The shirts they’d worn around the Castleship, the shirts they’d worn as the Red and Blue Paladins.  _ The Red and  _ Black _ Paladins, actually _ . Lance quickly yanks his hands away as if burned and steps back. 

 

Miles seem to lie between Lance’s side of the fire and Keith’s. Lance is careful to leave plenty of space between his now bare chest and the flames as he trudges over. As strange as they were, the Altean blankets and pillows sure would be useful right about now. 

 

Lance hesitates once Keith is there, at his feet. He smooths his hands haltingly over his stomach and clothed thighs.

 

“Don’t make it  _ weird _ ,” Keith hisses between his teeth, and Lance lets out a mortifying yelp. “Get down here before I really decide to let you freeze.”

 

Lance practically throws his body to the ground in his haste to get things over with. The touch of the rock against his palms and torso is jarring. It’s a different sort of cool, different from the chill of the air or wet clothing. He shifts around, seeking the most comfortable position, but there undoubtedly isn’t one. Lying on his side, the sensation is like dipping into the swell of a wave on a sweltering hot day. 

 

And then there’s Keith.

 

His presence is a stark contrast against the cave floor. Heat radiates from his body like a furnace, horrifically tempting. Lance’s arms appear to have a mind of their own as they reach out to him. He first rests his open palms on Keith’s back, between his shoulder blades— questioning. 

 

“Go ahead,” Keith murmurs. The proximity of his voice startles Lance. He hadn’t realized how close they were until that very moment. 

 

Lance's pinky skims a mole near Keith's spine, lingering. He's entranced by the constellations he could draw between moles, scars, and freckles with his fingertips. Like he’s been presented with a gorgeous pale canvas. The touch pulls a shiver from Keith that leaves Lance breathless. In his own way, Lance thinks, Keith  _ is _ a work of art. What with his effortless movements during battle, swinging and dipping and diving like a well-trained dancer. The dangerous blend of agility and strength Lance has witnessed on countless occasions.

 

_ Woah, woah, slow down there, hotshot _ . This line of thinking borders on something beyond strictly platonic. Lance stills his hands and clears his throat. Because that… that was kinda sorta a very weird train of thought to have about  _ Keith _ , of all people. 

 

Right?

 

Shaking those thoughts, Lance slips his hand beneath Keith’s arm and over his side. His heart beats a frantic staccato inside his chest. Pounding, pounding in his ears. His skin feels cooler than Lance anticipated, but it doesn’t stop him from inching along the ground until his chest is pressed against Keith’s back. And that, somehow, feels much warmer. 

 

Lance wraps his arm loosely around Keith and then panics. Because, okay. He's gotten this far. But where the heck should he put his other arm?

 

Does it go on the ground above Keith's head? Tucked against Lance's body? This shouldn't even be an issue. Lance is the master of cuddling, the king of cuddles. He used to cuddle with family members, friends like Hunk, even the occasional dog or cat. Preferably dogs because Lance is allergic to cats but—  _ still. _

 

“Do you want me to… uh.” Lance sneaks his fingers along the ground so his arm rests in an arc over Keith's head. “Like? Is my arm okay here or…?”

 

Yes, Lance is making it weird. And, no, he can't seem to make himself stop.

 

“You’re acting like you've never cuddled with someone before,” Keith laughs. Lance can tell it's meant to sound confident but there's a faint tremble to his voice. 

 

“Uh, excuse you, but I’m an  _ expert _ .” 

 

Carefully, Keith cranes his neck to glance at Lance over his shoulder. He flicks his gaze between Lance’s noodle arm over his head and the empty space where his head was resting. “You should probably just… rest it under my head. Or whatever.”

 

_ Oh, should I now? Silly me!  _ Lance scoots his arm down to pillow level and leaves it there. The skin along his forearm prickles in anticipation. Of course his life has reached this point— where his arm has become a pillow for Keith freakin’ Kogane. In a dark cave in the middle of an alien forest, no less.

 

Keith then has the audacity to settle against the proffered arm-pillow. Layers of thick black hair brush along Lance’s skin as Keith readjusts himself into the most comfortable position.  

 

“Better?” Lance asks. He tries to mimic Keith’s feigned confidence, but it goes about as well as it did for Keith. Anyone with ears could tell he’s nervous. 

 

Rather than answer, Keith releases a small, contended noise. The sound rumbles through his throat. Deep, reverberating. Lance absorbs every bit of it and sinks further into this warm cocoon they’ve created for themselves. 

 

For a second, Lance is so relieved to regain feeling in his limbs that he forgets who he’s lying next to. All he knows is that he’s no longer freezing. That the soft lump of a human tucked under his arm is exuding heat, lulling him into a languid, sleepy state. 

 

His fleeting, blissful ignorance isn’t enough, though. A few moments later, his body reminds him exactly who it is pressed up against him. It’s like his nerves have suddenly become a minefield of oversensitivity. Hyper-aware of every rise and fall of Keith’s chest beneath Lance’s arm, every minute twitch of his muscles. Lance has to keep his eyes firmly shut to avoid staring at the amount of bare skin currently on display. It’s surreal, a bit disorienting, to see the combination of their skin tones.

 

The whole experience is confusing in ways Lance can’t even begin to explain.

 

Squeezing his eyes shut tighter, to the point it’s almost painful, Lance exhales and tries to let his mind wander. To thoughts of a full night’s rest, to the food they’ll hopefully find in the morning. Anything that isn’t Keith’s half-naked torso along his side. 

 

If this were Hunk or Shiro or, heck, Pidge, it wouldn’t bother Lance.

 

So, what does it matter that it’s Keith?

 

“Relax,” Keith suddenly comments in a hushed tone. The croak in his voice is oddly… pleasant. “This is like sleeping beside a block of ice.”

 

“I— I’m totally relaxed.” To prove his point, Lance uses his hold on Keith’s waist to tug him closer. “See?”

 

To Lance’s surprise, Keith stiffens at the contact.  _ The hypocrite. _

 

“Hey.” Lance murmurs each word into the nape of Keith’s neck. “Now who’s the one who needs to relax?”

 

“I  _ am  _ relaxed.”

 

“Uh huh. Totally.”

 

“Remember how I called you a menace?” Keith’s hand brushes Lance’s where it rests on his stomach, and he hurriedly moves it. “Well, I stand by it.”

 

“Great, because I'm still flattered,” Lance singsongs. The sarcasm carries a strange sort of intimacy. Like the shared space, shared will-to-survive, demand it. “Go to sleep, sunshine.”

 

Keith lightly digs his elbow into Lance, eliciting an affronted gasp. “I’ll show you  _ sunshine _ .”

 

“Hush. Rest, my child.” Lance can’t help but nuzzle closer. His eyelids are heavy with much needed sleep. He’s long given up on keeping his eyes open; there’s no sense in fighting off exhaustion. “Rest.”

 

Keith grumbles something unintelligible but doesn’t argue the matter. Eventually, the cave is silent once again, save for the crackling flame and rainfall. The pull of sleep is too strong, and not even Lance’s minor Keith-related panic can keep him awake. 

 

Soon after, Lance drops off into dreamland to thoughts of he and Keith, skipping back to the campground hand-in-hand. Proudly brandishing the food they caught and grinning like a couple of fools.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Feast your eyes!”

 

Lance’s excited voice carries over the camp. To Keith’s relief, everyone is already out of their tents and milling about. They turn in unison to stare at Keith and Lance as they approach. Keith can only imagine what’s running through their heads at the sight of the two of them, holding a bundle of tiny mammal creatures from the forests in each fist. 

 

“Oh, wow, you guys actually did it!” Pidge trots over to inspect their findings. “We were worried you two dorks got lost or something.”

 

“You said they had been eaten by a monster,” Romelle interjects, blinking innocently. 

 

Pidge scoffs and rolls her eyes. “That’s, uh. I think you’re taking my words out of context.”

 

“She’s not, but I’ll admit I was worried about the same thing.” Hunk steps around Pidge and motions for the two to hand the animals over. “What are these?”

 

At a glance, the creatures look identical to rabbits. But upon closer inspection, there's no mistaking the extra pair of eyes or misty lavender color of their fur.

 

“Good question…” Lance scans the camp for Coran. “Please tell me these aren't poisonous or something?”

 

“Ah, traldits,” Coran explains wistfully. “They’re elusive little creatures. I'm surprised you boys managed to catch this many. Oh, and not to fear. They're not poisonous.”

 

“Well, there you have it!” Hunk claps his hands together. “Let’s get cooking! I’m pretty sure all of us are starving.”

 

Hunk eagerly crushes their haul against his chest and dashes off to his tent. Shiro slinks out of seemingly nowhere and considers Keith and Lance with a pointed stare. It’s a look Keith has seen him wear on many occasions; it doesn’t bode well. 

 

“Are you two alright?” Shiro takes his time inspecting them. “We almost sent someone out to find you. Krolia insisted we wait, though, and that you just got caught in the storm.”

 

“I knew Keith would keep them safe,” Krolia interrupts. She shifts her focus to Keith. “We dealt with far worse in the abyss.”

 

Keith forces himself not to react to the mention of the abyss. A selfish part of him wants to forget about their journey. About the years it stole from him, the gaping hole it left in his relationship with Lance. He doesn’t  regret spending the time with Krolia or sharing their memories, and he’s happy they were able to save Romelle. But, at the end of the day, they were years he could never get back. Years he could’ve spent with the entire team  _ and  _ Krolia. 

 

It's terrible and, frankly, childish because there hadn't been another way. But Keith can't help but miss what could've been.

 

“We managed,” Keith mumbles.

 

Shiro’s eyes narrow into skeptical slits. “Are you sure everything’s alright?” 

 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”  _ Lies _ .

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Lance watching him. Images of last night shove to the forefront of his mind. The bare skin and flame’s embers, the cave floor and the drone of his pounding pulse. 

 

They’re still stuck in an odd place, Keith recognizes that much. But something has shifted. The shift is imperceptible, and Keith doesn’t expect anyone to notice. Hell,  _ Lance  _ might not even notice. 

 

And yet it’s all Keith can think about.

 

“So,” he drawls, forcing a smile. “Where to next?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> HERE WE GO, WELCOME TO THE RIDE!!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed that first chapter. come yell with me over on twitter or tumblr @tobiologist


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